


Planetfall

by ameerkatofficial



Category: Robot Series - Isaac Asimov
Genre: Almost Sex, Androids, Book: The Naked Sun, Book: The Robots of Dawn, Detectives, Isaac Asimov - Freeform, Love Confessions, M/M, Robot Sex, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 00:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19262266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameerkatofficial/pseuds/ameerkatofficial
Summary: Daneel and Elijah say goodbye just after "The Robots of Dawn".





	Planetfall

**Author's Note:**

> it's gay

When he awoke, he heard rumbling—the sounds of the storm, the thunder, the rain, streaming down as if the skies above were moved to awful, heavy tears. He awoke with a shiver, the sight of white, utterly white sheets, and no windows.

 It was then that he remembered where he was—aboard the spaceship bound for home. The rumbling was the engine below, and there were no windows. There were no skies, no trees, no noisy birds and humming insects and unpredictable, soft breezes. There was no rain. It didn’t rain in space anyway.

“Jehoshaphat…” Elijah muttered, pinching his brow. Something was bristling against his skin, his feet, causing undue friction against the bed sheets. He looked down then to see his shoes still on his feet, his wrinkled trousers. It seemed he had simply dropped onto his bed and drifted off without taking a moment to even take off his shoes. He wiggled his toes, then his feet, slowly coming back to wakefulness as his fingers sunk into the sheets, his shoulders rolled, and he gave a gentle yawn.

And then his mind came back, and the detective recalled those dimly glowing eyes and a coldly spoken confession for murder.

Elijah stared ahead at the blank, white wall, his bones feeling as if they were slowly filling with cement. He had won, hadn’t he? So did Fastolfe. So did Giskard. So did _humanity._ And yet it felt like a sham once Elijah was completely and utterly alone, without Giskard, without even Daneel, or some other attending robot—just Elijah and his thoughts and the truth that would never be written.

_Gladia…_

The name hit him suddenly, seeming to strike him across the face, pulling open a levee of guilt that boiled inside as he realized that he had left her with a lie. She wasn’t even here for him to tell her in whispers, or perhaps even sobs. She would never be here, just beside him, so that he could, at any moment lay a hand against her cheek, or else embrace her, fully, and lay his head upon her breast. He felt something wet trickle down the side of his nose.

“ _Partner Elijah_. I am here to inform you that we will be landing in about a few hours.”

 Elijah’s head whipped around to the door, where Daneel stood, tall and handsome as usual. Elijah repressed the urge to shrink back under the covers again.

“ _Partner,_ still?” the detective gave a wry smile, crawling forward so that he could come to sit at the end of the bed, “Thought we were through with that business.”

“The case may be solved, but my orders are still in effect until I see you returned to earth.”

“ _Hm_ ,” Elijah nodded slowly, “Yes…the case is _solved_ …”

He looked back up to Daneel, observing some subtle cock of the head, though that could have easily been Elijah’s imagination. The humaniform robot couldn’t pick up on the subtleties of human vocal inflections, after all. And yet…

 _Jehoshaphat_ …he’d forgotten. He wasn’t a mind reader, like Giskard, but he _was_ a “ _psychologist”,_ which was close enough in Daneel’s case.

And Elijah’s secondary intuition was completely correct, for here came Daneel, a question in his eyes, half a moment before it reached his lips.

“The case is not yet solved?” he asked, though it sounded to be more a statement than a question. Of course it was. Daneel knew Elijah well enough to not question it.

Elijah sighed softly through his nose, his lips pressed firmly shut, though he knew that would do no good against Daneel. He leaned back upon the heels of his hands and had a silent standoff with that soft, brown gaze, though he soon relented.

“It’s solved, but—just come here, Daneel,” he gestured the other forward, “Sit down with me.”

Daneel stepped closer and his body gave in smoothly, allowing him to sit down beside Elijah with a fascinating grace, hands landing gently in his lap. Elijah wanted to snort at this, but refrained from doing so. But he did take a moment in observing him up and down, as an old suspicion frothed up in his veins. _This is Fastolfe’s robot_. _He can be instructed to…_

 “What I’m about to say, regarding the case, must be erased from your memory, and never repeated or replayed to anyone, human or robot, no matter how strong another’s instruction is. I am giving you this very strong instruction. Am I clear?”

“Yes. You are clear.”

And with that smooth response, Elijah already began to regret even calling Daneel to sit. He shifted uncomfortably, and moved his tongue to speak, but his lips did not follow. No, they would not follow. They instead remained glued shut.

Then slowly, like a balloon deflating its air, any _desire_ to continue speaking slowly began to dissipate. But those eyes still stared, brown and steady, and Elijah still did not speak.

 _Damn Giskard_ , he thought, as he recalled suddenly Giskard’s mind-probing. Robots could be thoroughly instructed, and so could humans, it seemed.

_“…Partner Elijah?”_

The detective waved his hand up at the other, “ _Jehoshaphat_ ,” he grumped, “Just…just forget it. It’s…solved, _adequately_ enough, a-and our job is done. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

“Partner Elijah, I do not quite follow what you are saying.”

Elijah began slamming his fists on the bed, wanting for nothing else than to rip Daneel’s head off, “ _Jehoshaphat, Jehoshaphat, Jehoshaphat!_ ”

Daneel’s brows briefly lifted as his leg quickly pulled away out of the line of fire. “Do you wish for me to leave?” he seemed about ready to take flight.

“ _No, sit down!”_

Daneel remained bone-chillingly still, though looking quite ill at ease, and Elijah remembered once again that this poor creature was indeed a _robot._

“ _Sorry_ ,” he huffed softly, despite knowing intellectually that there was no need to do so. But he was sorry, about a lot of things, most of all his lack of tobacco.

“ _Look_ …uh…” he began, unsurely, “The case is solved, and not to be worried about any longer, but the passing of Jander—it wasn’t an _accizen_ —”

“Partner Elijah?”

“It was-wasn’t an a-a- _accijjen_ …it was…a-a—”

_“Elijah!”_

His throat closed and his fist came up once again, coming down to rock the entire bed, before his hands both came up to cover his face, and he promptly slammed his entire self back onto the bed with a frustrated yelp of something akin to _Jehoshaphat._

But there was movement, and Elijah was conscious of something very close to his face. After some time, his hands slowly came down from his face, revealing the sight of Daneel, hunched over him, synthetic skin seeming to wrinkle with concern.

“ _…Partner Elijah?”_

He had to hand it to Fastolfe. Daneel was programmed to be _incredibly_ loyal.

As a side effect of Giskard’s orders, Elijah suddenly felt a deep sense of apathy come over him, and even a want to sit up had been sapped from him. He frowned up at his partner, though he knew the humaniform couldn’t help very much even if he wanted to, which he very much _did_ want to.

“Lay down with me, Daneel,” he sighed, despondent, as his hand lightly cupped the other’s shoulder. Daneel responded immediately, relaxing fluidly so that he lay beside Elijah, watching the man intently. _Like a dog_ , Elijah thought absently. He was surely as loyal as one.

 Elijah was silent as he tried to come up with something to say, or even an urge to _say something!_ He felt like sleeping. He could if he wanted to; they had time…

“This entire case has been about love, Daneel…” he began, speaking softly, “love of humanity, love of your society, love of another…I don’t think you’ll ever understand it, really. Love of any kind is illogical— _human_. But it’s one of the best things we have as humans… _and the worst_.”

Daneel’s gaze remained eerily steady, but Elijah knew he was listening, absorbing, perhaps even _learning_. Machines like him liked to learn, didn’t they? It was how they could be so convincing.

Elijah turned away then, laying on his back now and staring up at the ceiling as his hands came to rest on his stomach. “Amadiro loves Aurora. Fastolfe loves humanity. Gladia loved Jander. And I…love Gla…” His head suddenly turned to check on Daneel, sure that he would judge Elijah, having met his wife. _You love Gladia, don’t you? How about Jessie? Sweet Jessie? Dearest Mrs. Jessie Baley?_

 Daneel, of course, had no expression to speak of besides intense listening. He’d have no judgment, either, and how could he? Why would he care for anything for humanity besides those three _fundamental laws_? And still, Elijah found his hand searching through the sheets, searching for something to hold, to keep contact. He found Daneel’s smooth, soft hand and squeezed it tight, wanting to keep him there, _right there_. Wanting to know that he could never judge Elijah. Daneel’s hand squeezed back, bringing a warm, comfortable tightness around Elijah’s, steady and firm.

“I love Gladia,” he whispered, looking down to their joined hands and feeling relief radiate from them, “I love her to…to _Aurora_ and back. I’d do anything for her happiness, and to be with her, but…Ben… _Jessie_ …I can’t leave them to nothing. I love them _too_.”

“And you cannot have both.”

“ _Yes…”_ Elijah began to explain, “I can’t have both. This isn’t Aurora. Earth marital laws are different. One spouse, a certain number of children allotted, and nothing else. I mean—yeah, things _happen_. But I can’t risk my reputation if it means hurting my family. Do you understand?”

Daneel nodded slowly against the sheets, his copper hair ruffling a bit, making him seem slightly more human, “Reputation is very important amongst humans, even to the point of being illogical. Events that mar reputation, however, are different for Aurorans, Earthpeople, and Solarians.”

“Exactly.”

Elijah returned to staring dumbly at the ceiling, though he still retained Daneel’s hand. It was the only thing anchoring him here, to this metal tube sailing through the vast emptiness of space. His thumb brushed against the other’s knuckles, marveling at the touch of pores, of fine hairs. And then came some distant memory of what he had seen of Daneel long ago, back on earth, back to that smooth, breathing chest, and those fine hairs trailing down…

Daneel Olivaw was truly built to be _human._

“I should have kissed her, you know?” Elijah suddenly spoke, “She touched my cheek—like the first time, you know? And it was for the last time. And I’ve only kissed her once, one night, when we…when we…”

“ _Had intercourse?_ ”

Elijah shot a sour gaze at Daneel, and Daneel stared impassively back. But his words were so soft that Elijah could hardly retain to his anger, “Yeah, we…we did. I wish I could do it again. It’s all I can think about. Just making her… _happy_.”

He still recalled the smell of her, so personal and unique, and wondered if it was still on his clothes. Surely it wouldn’t, not at this point, but he wondered greedily if he could just strip off his shirt and…

“Did you know that she had an orgasm the first time I touched her face?” Elijah chuckled in nostalgia, “She’d never known affectionate human contact her entire life, and then suddenly she had me. And then she…she _had_ me.”

She was warm, and soft, and so very small. But she was hungry, hungry for what she had never known all her life. She was hungry for love, _love_ that she failed to find in Auroran men. Then why him?

 _“Why me?”_ he asked aloud to no one in particular, “Of all people, why did she have to fall for a dirty, short-lived, _married_ earthman? I’m not anything special. I’m not even that handsome! Why…why didn’t she just fall for _you?”_

But he knew the answer to that. Daneel was like Jander—just a robot instructed to please, only able to _give,_ and not _take._

 He heard a crackle of lips moving, a breath drawn in, and he was surprised to see Daneel daring to deliberate a reply, however slowly. Elijah wondered in gentle amusement what a robot had to say on _love._

“Perhaps it is your similarities that attracted her to you,” the humaniform replied, “The both of you are different from the people of your respective societies, to the point of being nearly, or even completely cast out, and wanting for a reconstruction of society and humanity as a whole.”

Elijah took this in with a snort, shaking his head, “Jehoshaphat! You really are a _psychologist_ ,” he laughed bitterly, before turning to see Daneel— _smiling?_ It was slight and soft and short lived, but the expression did exist, at least transiently.

“Additionally,” Daneel kept analyzing, “you are quite agreeable. You are hard-working, generally kind, generally amiable, highly compassionate, and slightly timid when it comes to intimacy, which, as far as I have learned, is occasionally seen as _attractive_.”

A grin now truly came upon Elijah’s face, spreading from ear to ear, and a laugh almost broke, “You really have a way with words, Daneel,” he chuckled, “You could almost make me fall in love with _you._ ”

Elijah looked once again, and there came that soft, quick smile. Elijah laughed, until he stopped, for there was a _pang_ in his side.

“I’m probably never seeing you again either, am I?”

“You are correct.”

Elijah turned fully now on his side, facing Daneel, looking at him hard. Oh yes, he had forgotten that, hadn’t he? And instead he spent all of his time, sleeping, depressed and alone, forgetting entirely that Daneel wasn’t simply going to come _with_ him. A great shame came over him, but it soon froze over. What was he to do, then? He couldn’t write or trimensionally communicate like he could with Gladia? Surely he could in theory—but what point was there in doing so with a _robot?_ Even one who was so eloquent, so warm, so…

Daneel shifted closer, looking as if he meant to share a secret by how his gaze momentarily downcast. There was some other, more practical reason for it surely, and still anthropomorphism still remained.

“Partner Elijah…” he began, squeezing the hand that Elijah had forgotten was in his grasp, “You say that this case was entirely about love, and I hypothesize that this is the reason it seemed more illogical to me than our past cases, and therefore was more difficult. In order to become a more effective partner, either to you or another detective, I ask that you explain precisely what _love_ may feel like to a human.”

Elijah’s heart jumped briefly in his chest, his face prickling at this line of questioning. Well, Daneel wasn’t wrong about Elijah being _timid_ , but he supposed there was no reason to be so with a _robot_ of all things.

But then there were those _eyes._

 “W-Well…” Elijah began, finding himself flushing some, “That’s a bit of a _difficult_ question. It…it’s an intense feeling—maybe as strong as the laws’ potentials are in you. It can manifest as a deep caring, and want for the well-being of say, a society, like Fastolfe has for humanity. And sometimes it’s an all-consuming, fanatical obsession, to the point of _nationalism_ , like Amadiro has for Aurora. You’ve learned about nationalism, you’ve learned about Earth’s history.”

“I do. A prominent example centuries ago was the Nazi Party in Germany, correct?”

“Yes. Love feels great, and sometimes feels too great, leading to danger and harm to the welfare of a vast group of people. But it can also move people to do good to the world, like people who donate to charity, rally for peace, volunteer to help others in times of need—”

“What about love between individuals?”

Daneel had interrupted Elijah’s train of thought, and he blinked, disoriented, back at the other, “Uh…sorry?”

“Such as the love between Friend Jander and Gladia. Or you and Gladia.”

Elijah’s complexion had returned, only to become ruddy again. He wanted to decline answering, and surely Daneel would have accepted that. But then he’d feel guilty not telling him, not answering him. He’d done so much for Elijah after all…

Could the least he could do not be to answer Daneel’s questions?

“Love…” he tapped his free hand’s fingers upon the sheet in pondering, “It’s kind of…it’s simpler than that, but it’s also more complicated…”

The humaniform furrowed his brows in question, “I…do not understand…”

“I really don’t think anyone does, Daneel.”

“Why do you love Miss Gladia?”

The question was sudden, and more pointed than Daneel usually tended to be in conversation, and the detective was a tad shocked. “I find her _agreeable_ ,” he replied just as pointedly, perhaps even a bit mocking of Daneel’s use of the word.

The sarcasm, was of course, lost on the humaniform, who only grew more puzzled, “You also find Friend Fastolfe agreeable. Do you love him?”

“N-No…it’s not like that…”

“Why is it not _like that?_ ”

Now Elijah _really_ wanted to rip Daneel’s head off. But he couldn’t bring himself to. It wasn’t worth it here, to commit yet another _roboticide_ over a pertinent question.

“I find Fastolfe agreeable, yes. But I find Gladia especially agreeable. She is witty, cheerful, funny, _beautiful_ … _even enticing_ ,” Elijah squeezed his lips together at this, his eyes shifting away, his voice weakening,“…and I cannot stand to be apart from her…in fact, I find it painful!”

 Daneel blinked. He blinked a few times. Did he always blink, Elijah wondered. Surely he did, as the earthpeople hardly noticed a difference between him and the everyday man apart from his height and absurd beauty. It really was absurd, that Daneel was built to be so beautiful. Wouldn’t it be distracting? Perhaps it was an asset, however, for earthpeople tended to not mind, much less question the fantastically beautiful, charming, intelligent…

Daneel didn’t speak for a long time, and the prickling feeling in Elijah’s face didn’t leave all the while. He started counting how many times the humaniform blinked. _One, two, three…_

“Do I have a capacity for love?” he suddenly asked, though Elijah wasn’t sure why. Surely the detective wouldn’t have a clue of what a robot was _capable_ _of!_

“ _Do you?”_  Elijah asked, unsure why he was humoring the robot up to this point. Daneel certainly didn’t anyway, did he? Could he take a robotic wife? Have robotic _children?_

Silence again, and Daneel seemed to be looking past Elijah at this point, to somewhere far off, in his own mind, or his circuits, his programming, seeming to flip through metaphorical pages, searching for definitions and ratios—

“I will most likely never see you again,” he suddenly said, sounding somehow pained. _First law_ , the detective told himself, _he knows I’ll be hurting too_.

“You probably won’t, Daneel,” he replied, a little softer than he meant to, “Why? Do you want to write to me?”

Daneel didn’t answer. His gears were turning, turning, turning _fast_. Elijah could see that. Where was his mind _going?_

“Do you love me, Partner Elijah?”

The detective’s brows went sky-high then, nearly coming out from the top of his forehead. His heart stilled, his blood stopped flowing for a moment. Then, he laughed, something hoarse and desperate. It was a silly question, from a sillier circumstance.

“You misunderstand, Daneel—”

“ _Do I?”_

“ _Yes!”_ Elijah suddenly sat up, “It’s not like that! You don’t just—just…I’m not Gladia, alright?” he sputtered, “I’m not a Solarian. I can’t fall in love with robots! And robots can’t love back!”

Daneel sat up as well, looking disheveled, his hair askew. It made him more personable, somehow. More _human_. “I’m not human,” he stated firmly, “And I do not want to be human, but, _Partner Elijah, I…_ ” his voice was hoarse now as he sat up too, laying a hand upon Elijah’s cheek. Elijah’s eyes immediately misted, as a lightning bolt ran up his spine.

“D-Don’t…don’t do this to me, Daneel…” he shook his head slowly, “Please, don’t…please _go…_ ”

“But Partner Elijah…” the humaniform robot nearly whispered, something Elijah did not know he was capable of, “If I leave now, you will feel pain—”

“Da…” he could hardly speak now, his throat closing up as his hand came up to close over the back of Daneel’s, trying to wrench it away, but he hadn’t the strength, “Daneel, please go… _second law_ …”

The humaniform cringed at this, and Elijah could tell that this hurt him, unbalancing his potentials, sending his circuits haywire perhaps, “ _F-First law_ …” Daneel insisted, stuttering suddenly, and Elijah knew that there was damage done, even if it was temporary. He had orders, but Daneel knew perfectly well what was in Elijah’s heart.

But his hand fell away, falling down in a stream along Elijah’s neck and shoulder and arm, trying to retain in his memory as much sensory information as he could in this brief touch. “I apologize, Partner Elijah,” he was beginning to return to his normal, serene tone, “I should leave, I have overstepped my boundaries. I was simply confused, as I, too, find your presence agreeable, even _pleasurable_ , and…” he shuddered, likely his potentials readjusting from minor traumas, “it does cause me some measure of pain to be…apart…I should speak to Friend Fastolfe at once. There is something very wrong with me.”

“ _There is_ ,” Elijah replied perhaps a tad too bitterly, hastily wiping away sudden streams that spilled down his usually hard face, his voice thickening some, “You should go, Daneel. I order you.”

“I should go,” repeated Daneel, faithfully.

And still the other did not leave, as Elijah’s heart did not even try to return to normalcy. It sped on and on, to the point that he feared his heart may simply leave him and fly out into the vacuum of space, rivaling the spaceship they were on. Elijah very badly did not want Daneel to leave either, nor did he want to leave Gladia. But he had to, _he had to!_ For he surely could not leave his dear son Ben, or his darling wife Jessie!

“You should…” he began to echo, noticing now that their hands were still loosely entwined. He didn’t finish his sentence, finding himself arrested by that steady, brown gaze. The lighting here caught Daneel’s red hair in flecks of gold, and this closeness—Jehoshaphat, he was a good-looking man…from his shapely chin to his sharp hairline. And Elijah knew far more, from that time in the Personals, and in that ratty apartment…

 _Daneel loves me because he was ordered to_ , Elijah told himself. Surely that must have been where it went all went wrong. Fastolfe went too far in trying to make Daneel the perfect partner, and then the perfect bodyguard.

He was crying now, heavier than the skies in that horrific storm, little gasps and sniffles coming from his chest. He was a grown man acting like a child in front of a glorified computer.

Daneel’s brow began to wrinkle now, but he did turn to leave, leave straight out of Elijah’s life, for who knew how close they were to Earth now. It could be minutes…

Elijah gripped Daneel’s hand then, pulling him back, and Daneel looked back, appalled. But he did stay, and so did Elijah, suffering and sniffling, though they did move closer, as if drawn together by some force. Elijah closed his eyes…

A robot’s mouth is a lot drier than a human’s. There is still some warmth, still some dampness, some sort of lubricant surely to give the appearance of humanity from even the closest of inspections. The lubricant tasted fresh, like the way clean linen smells.

“ _Go…go…”_ he kept whispering, his lips moving to form these words against Daneel’s. Daneel replied, but there was no sound to it. Instead, his hand gripped Elijah by the hair, fingers carding through it. Elijah found the front of Daneel’s shirt. His tongue felt like velvet. It was odd to feel.

“Partner Elijah…” the humaniform suddenly sighed, “Your mind, your… _want_ —it makes me…” he breathed heavily in place of speaking, gripping the other tightly now, though the embrace was already all too familiar to the detective, and he welcomed it. Daneel kissed feverishly along his neck, and how Elijah half-moaned, half-sobbed.

_“Just Elijah…”_

_“Just Elijah?”_

But when he felt slender, strong fingers suddenly slipped down the hem of his trousers, Elijah suddenly stopped him, recalling one stormy night… he would not be made helpless _again._

“ _No, no_ …” he moaned, gripping to Daneel’s wrist, “I…I give. You _take_.”

It was senseless to ask, for he knew that Daneel could feel nothing notable from physical touch. But Elijah refused to be passive again, to just let things happen as they did with Gladia. As she had once said, sex was give _and_ take, even if she denied one half of this from him. Perhaps it was in revenge against her then, that he pushed the other down, and all the other could do was offer that soft, cryptic smile, his soft brown gaze unnaturally steady. But the detective knew, somehow, what was on his mind, despite the blank slate that Daneel’s expressions were. His hands were on Elijah’s waist, pulling up his shirt there and probably drinking in whatever sensory input he could. He could feel age, and pores, and wrinkles, and hair, and scars, and probably retell Elijah’s entire life from there. Perhaps Elijah would ask him to.

How lovely he looked down there like that, anyhow, with his usually neat and prim hair thrown out to the wind, and that expression of serene _happiness._

“Elijah…I love—”

It was then that the door slid open, and a cheerful, tinny voice rang. “Mister Elijah Baley, it is time to leave! We have just made planetfall on Earth!”

And it was then that Elijah only an indented space beneath him, and a tall, handsome, and fully dressed R. Daneel Olivaw stood beside the bed, not a hair out of place.

“Come, Mister Elijah,” the humaniform spoke coldly, if not sadly, “Get dressed. It is time to depart.”

**Author's Note:**

> ya.


End file.
